Captive
by Zorra Reed
Summary: Tortured and manipulated, Jack Frost lost himself to his captor. Can the guardians save him from himself in the aftermath?
1. Perspective

A/N: Chapters 1-5 have been revised! This story is written in first person and told through the eyes of several different characters. It contains abusive themes of a mature and lustful nature. Thank you to all who read and review. You're an inspiration!

* * *

 **Captive  
** [Rise of the Guardians]  
Author: Zorra Reed  
 _Moonrise Inn Publications_

Part 1 – Perspective

I am pinned upon my belly in the darkness of a great cavern; my eyes squeezed tight against the sting of steam billowing from fissures in the scarred walls. I am helpless. My feverish face pressed to the rock, seeking the remnants of a chill once inerasable from my person. If only I could find some hint of cool in this damned stone cradling my sprawled form. Even some faint fragment, no matter how remote, might be enough to ease the pain of its loss from my body; a body which lies bare to the night, un-clothed, un-iced.

I do not suffer this shame alone; there is one other with me, the warmth from his physique overwhelming me in my defrosted condition. He, like I, am burning. While I burn with fever he burns with fire. His lithe form wriggling with desire as he covers me, flesh against flesh. I scream out. His lips silence my cry as they claim dominion over my own. Heat seeps from them into my person. My mouth floods with his fire. My throat is raw from this endless struggle. Reluctantly, I surrender. My tongue all but rolling about his, inviting him to sear me from the inside out as liquid tears dampen our kiss.

My legs spread outward at his commanding touch, my body reacting without my mind understanding the implications of my actions. His manhood presses against my cheeks and I wonder at the cooless chill that races through my blood, seizing my heart in a fearful grip. I can feel him throbbing against me, my skin over sensitized and aflame. His fingers splay playfully against my wounded back, his long nails traversing gingerly over the bloody lashes where his whip struck more times than I could count. I feel their gleeful tap dance against my shoulders, the only warning he'll grant.

Once…then twice again.

I suck in my breath, terror paralyzing my lungs. The nails curl. With a gleeful laugh he rips his claws through the gashes crisscrossing my shoulder blades. I arch and buck. His throbbing flesh pressed between my legs now arches upward and enters inside me. My body squeezes against the intrusion. My mind cries out in denial. I am so confused. Why is this happening to me?

The heat of the cavern becomes too much. The steam fogs my sight. Pain fogs my mind. I am somehow flipped over, nausea twisting my stomach, pain tearing my rear! Oh Heaven! My back! Dear God, my back! The stone is as unkind to it as the heat is to me. Pebbles and black sand mesh into the cuts as I unwittingly squirm beneath his frame. He bellows out a brutal laugh, the sound of which roars like a buzz saw in my ears. Louder it grows until I am consumed. All that's left is pain, darkness and fear. Everything has become pitch…

…Pitch Black.


	2. Reverence

**Captive  
** [Rise of the Guardians]  
Author: Zorra Reed  
 _Moonrise Inn Publications_

Part 2 - Reverence

I could almost feel the prints from his fingertips engrave upon my flesh as he guided my hips back, pressing his own forward until I had taken him in fully. My focus turned to our rhythmic breathing and the strange aligning of our heartbeats as our bodies engaged in nature's wild dance. He's made himself one with me. His body secured within mine, his words in my ears, his nightmares clouding my vision. I shudder with a mixture of pleasure and revolution each time he brushes a tender spot inside me. I am as wild as our dance, my captive body shifting and twisting in his arms, pinned but otherwise unrestrained.

He's left me free to grip, to scratch, to bite. I am free to feel and touch, to explore his body as he explores mine. I am free to give pleasure or pain to the one who calls himself my 'master'. He does not punish such occurrences during our affectionate moments, but instead chooses to reward them.

I am encouraged to participate in my own destruction. I am broken by my shame. Each passionate gasp of pleasure, each unconscious thrust to meet him, every lidded glance at his unclothed body, every lustful vision of him covering me, pressing his to mine, every thought that turns away from the idea of rescue towards the hope that he'll suck me again…breaks me.

I cry, ashamed that I cannot control the emotions he summons inside me. Like a movie they are paraded before my minds' eye and replayed, again and again. Every new showing altered from the truth: a new ending, a new beginning, an unexpected twist. Pitch controlled every thought, every opportunity. He drove from me the moonlight and starlight; he stole into the deepest part of my heart and shattered my center, perverting my concept of _fun_. No longer did snowball fights and fun flakes mean joy, those naïve ideals were gone from me. Fun was harm; it was burning pools of water, black whips with biting teeth, a constant intrusion of my body. Fun was pain and pain was pleasure. My self-worth was dependent upon his need for me. I was his plaything; an animated object whose only value resided in its ability to entertain its master. I was nothing; not even a name.

Pitch placed a delicate kiss to the back of my shoulder before withdrawing his touch from my broken form. Another day had passed. Another day filled with his touches, his laughter in my ears, my broken heart crumpling with each new game. Another day of my body betraying me to the desires he promised to feed and fill. Another day in a long passing of days where I envisioned my lips against his, our arms entwined, and my legs spreading for him as I willingly whore myself to sate the lustful throbbing in my groin. If only I had the courage to ask him to suck me as my own lips close around him.

 _Coward!_

Pitch had won. The youth once known as Jack Frost was dead. He died weeks ago in a burning inferno, screaming for a savior that never came.


	3. The North Wind

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read this. You're reviews have been inspiring. I've finally decided how I'm going to continue this story. Be aware the POVs are going to start change every few chapters.

* * *

 **Captive**  
Author: Zorra Reed  
 _Moonrise Inn Publications_

The North Wind – Part 3

Jack was dead. Only the being Pitch had taken to calling Frost remained. A puppet, masquerading as a passionate soul tangled in the twisted pleasures of his master. The truth was this being was empty with a heart of ice at his core. Frost cared for nothing, and concerned himself with nothing beyond the moment in which he existed; his awareness surfacing like a fish to bait when Pitch was able to rouse him. The biting lash of a whip or the telltale whisper of fingers creasing his inner thigh is all that was needed to draw this dormant being into Pitch's twisted world of entertainment. Frost danced for Pitch as his body was devoured. He obediently screamed and wailed as he was beaten. Most importantly, he delighted in his masters hurtful attentions, surrendering his very soul to darkness.

The day that Jack awoke from his enchanted sleep was the day Pitch no longer found him of value. Ejected from the heated caves after nearly three years imprisoned in their belly, the starving urchin discovered himself stretched necked upon the sand of an abandoned beached somewhere in the tropics. The heat was not as intense as the inside of the caves had been. Winter was in the air, and it clung to his pale flesh like a Band-Aid, trying and failing to frost him.

"Wind?" he whispered, the sound broken as it tore from a throat that no longer recalled speech. I swept down to the pitiful creature I'd once carried upon my back and spun a cyclone about him. It was fruitless, without his staff I was unable to lift his flesh. Again I was helpless to assist him. For three years, Pitch kept me at bay; only wisps of my breath had entered the caverns that crisscrossed beneath the island. I could not take the boy from his clutches and I was unable to summon his friends to his aid. They look still for him, in places cold. They don't imagine Jack Frost a winter spirit, could survive long in a tropical environment. How little they understand. Jack is an immortal child, as difficult to kill as they are.

Settling beside the youth, I shift the sand against his fingers. _I am here,_ I tell him. For a brief moment, there's understanding in his eyes. He remembers. Just as quickly, it is gone, replaced by the unfeeling eyes of Frost. They blink blindly. This puppet does not know me. He shifts his fingers through the course sand and struggles to rise. The attempt is futile. The movement, faint though it is, rips open the parting wounds Pitch had laced across his shoulders. Blood oozes down his arms, staining the sand a deep crimson. Soon, it will summon the crabs and birds. Frost settles, his senses fading. His body is hardly more than a shell now, left upon a beach to rot.

I rise from my resting place beside him and with a chilled kiss to the back of his neck, depart. I had one chance to save him. I would summon up such a storm as to terrorize and destroy his friends, if only to make them understand and follow me back to this dreadful place.

 _I promise Jack. I promise I shall return with those who love you._


	4. Awaken Heroes

**Captive**  
Author: Zorra Reed  
 _Moonrise Inn Publications_

Awaken Heroes – Part 4

I had precious little time to waste as I sored across the northern hemisphere. Jack's life trickled away with every passing moment and I'd never forgive myself if I lost him a second time. His only hope resided in my ability to alert the Guardians.

 _Move_ , I silent urged any and all who crossed my path. Try as I might, there just wasn't enough time to concern myself with weaving around the unfortunates subjected to the frigid temperature of my passing; their lives meaningless in comparison to Jacks. The pole wasn't far now. In the distance I could already make out the magnificent castle North fondly referenced as his 'workshop'. With my inability to communicate with the Guardians, I was already working on a plan to gain their attention.

Taking a page from Pitch's own playbook I…pardon the expression, _stormed_ the castle; beating against the Southern-facing windows mightily, till they splintered in my grasp. I heard the hiss of the bowing glass just before the panes shattered, allowing me entrance into the fortress. I invaded the space, my temper chilling the heated air in seconds as I passed through the corridors, having no mind for the annoying elvish creatures Jack was so easily entertained by. Their frozen bodies now my calling card as I scattered them about.

 _Guardians!_ I cried. My howl echoing throughout the workshop as I entered from a narrow hall into a wide room filled with toys and holiday décor. This, I assumed to be the primary workshop. _Come out Guardians! Come face me for I have done that which you could not. I have found Jack Frost!_

The Yetties shifted uneasily, their gaze following my movement as I turned about the room once, twice, taking it all in. Whether these creatures had the presence of mind to glimpse me for the spirit I am or were merely disconcerted by my unexpected entrance, was of no concern; however, I felt a surge of gratitude for their competence as they raised their voices in a united behemoth cry that was sure to summon those I seek.

Sure enough, not moments had passed before North came skidding into the workshop, swords drawn and stance eager for a fight. Muttering something in his native tongue, his gaze swept the room before understanding dawned and his eyes settled on the swirling cyclone of debris I had gathered around me. On his heals Bunnymund and Sandman quickly followed. Sandy, the more spiritually attuned of the three, knew me for myself. Our eyes connected, and while he could not hear me, he understood my purpose. His eyes lit. Jack was found.

Spreading his arms, a cloud of dream sand gathered around his stout form. I took advantage. Sweeping downward, I released all I carried to instead gather up the dream sand. They followed me with mixed expressions of confusion, uncertainty, and awe. I swept into the adjacent room where North kept the Globe. Circling it once, I spun the sand into a golden twister above the island where Jack lay helpless and hurt.

"Wind?" North muttered thinking out loud to himself. There was hope in his eyes. He understood. "She's found Jack!"

Sandy mutedly nodded his agreement, an image of the island I pointed too appeared above his head in the sand, then instantly arranged itself into an image of Santa's sleigh.

"Right, let's go!" North declared. There wasn't time to summon Tooth from the palace half way across the world. Time was short. He turned, Sandman in tow.

"My tunnels are faster, mate," Bunnymund stated, his nose twitching as he studied the map's location. I could tell something didn't settle well with him but now was not the time to pounder it. He seemed to have drawn the same conclusion. "I'll meet you there."

With a tap of his left foot, the ground opened and swallowed him. Once consumed, the only sign of his passing was a yellow daisy springing from the now solid floor where he'd stood. Satisfied that all would soon be well, I dropped the dream sand and whipped down the corridor in North's wake. They would need a guide if they were to find Jack.


	5. Paradise

A/N: I'm so indecisive about what secondary category this story really falls under. Is it drama, tragedy, hurt/comfort? I'm open to suggestions. This chapter didn't end quite the way I had intended, you can blame Bunny. I'd like to thank everyone for their encouraging reviews and emails, they've really helped to move this story along. I'm hoping to have it completed by New Years, so please stay tuned as updates are frequent and only a few days apart. Again, be aware that the POVs will change from chapter to chapter, however, it's a smooth transition, and no one should be confused or feel put off. Enjoy!

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 **Captive**  
Author: Zorra Reed  
 _Moonrise Inn Publications_

Paradise – Part 5

Never before had my tunnels seemed so foreboding. They carried me deep beneath the earth and far beneath the sea. Only to rise up onto the island paradise where Wind claimed Jack was captive. I emerged from their darkness beneath the cover of palm trees, and tucked myself into the foliage where I could observe, unseen.

It was beautiful! The tropical plants, ripe with plump fruits, breathed out a fragrance so tantalizing it left me thirsting for the cool spring splashing nearby. My ears twitched, taking in the sounds around me; the buzzing of the insects, the laughter of humans playing in the surf, the rush and folding of waves as they swelled and broke upon the white sand. Sandy would love this beach. It truly was something out of a dream.

Carefully I tested the air, my whiskers sensitive to the changing vibrations in the wind. Jacks scent was not among the coconuts and berries nor was it twisted with the salty sea. He was not here. Vexed by the islands creative illusion, _this_ blissful escape from the troubles and worries of daily life whilst somewhere hidden and suffering was the child of winter, enslaved by the unrelenting heat and invisible to all, left me with a growing longing for the comforting protection of my warren. Dismayed that I'd not found the one I sought, I tapped the ground with my hind leg and sank back into the tunnel I'd emerged from. Momentarily indulging in the cool air that brushed the Autumn heat from my thick fur.

Again and again I followed this routine of pop and drop. Sniffing at the air in hopes of catching a whiff of my fallen comrade as I scoured the island. Always with the knowledge that Pitch (our suspected kidnapper), might be lurking in the next shadow I myself was hiding in.

Rising up from the tunnel inside a tight ring of reefs, I wondered why I bothered to search an area that would momentarily be underwater. Sniffing at the air my demeanor turned sour, nothing. _Again_. Turning about, a bright flash of light drew my attention towards the unblemished sky marking the arrival of North's sleigh as it emerged from the snow globe portal.

"About ruddy time," I muttered darkly, even though my search had begun only minutes before. I swept my gaze across the landscape, using the moment to truly take it all in. I knew my way about this place. As the Easter Rabbit, a master at hide and seek, I'd been to this island before hiding eggs for the children; on that note, "I really should have found Jack by now." With an aggravated breath I ripped my gaze from the sky where the North Wind had begun rocking the sleigh rather impatiently and re-summoned my tunnel.

Wait.

There was a scent, something…uncouth. Hoisting myself high, I inhaled the precious scent, grimacing at the coppery taste it left in my mouth. Blood was mingled with the faint hint of frost and pine I knew to be Jack. He was nearby, over the ridge where the tide was beginning to drown the reef. I'd found him!

My legs carried me forward over the sharp stone as I leapt towards the repulsive stench. I smelt Pitch deeply entwined with Jacks scent and knew our hunch had been correct, he'd been the kidnapper. The question of why seemed a mute one. Considering the events surrounding the boogieman's recent rise and fall from power centered largely on the frost spirit, revenge seemed only natural. Even so, our history with Pitch stretched back beyond the Dark Ages, revenge seemed more…complete, if he were to attack a holiday. Then again, was it not that very course of action which lead to Jacks birth? The Man in Moon foresaw Pitches plan and set things into place so when the time came…"we'd have a weapon."

I froze inside, unwittingly drawing a parallel between our situation and the story of Harry Potter that had swept the globe, much to the delight of the Halloween spirits. Shaking off the wayward thoughts with irritation I reigned in my focus. Now was not the time to ponder the whys and what ifs of recent events. Besides, I already had the answer. We all did. We were just unwilling to admit it to ourselves. What better revenge could Pitch possible enact then to take the one who'd touched our souls with his joy? Jack was more than a guardian…he was family. We loved him. The real question was...did he still love us?

By the time the sleigh had skidded to a halt upon the beach, and her crew made their way over the reefs, I was nested in a foot of sea water with Jacks unconscious form raised in my lap.


End file.
